


Temper, Temper

by gardnerhill



Series: 221b Ficlets by Gardnerhill [88]
Category: Sherlock Holmes (Radio 1989-2010 Coules), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: 221B Ficlet, Community: watsons_woes, Gen, Prompt Fic, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 11:04:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 222
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19991098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardnerhill/pseuds/gardnerhill
Summary: The heat gets to everybody.





	Temper, Temper

**Author's Note:**

> For the 2019 July Watson's Woes Promptfest prompt #26: **It Is July, After All:** London can be brutal in the summertime. Let’s have some hot sweaty London and Holmes and Watson being hot and sweaty in it, all while trying to solve crimes and not strangle each other. .

Watson has always tolerated higher temperatures than I. This is completely understandable; the man's Army service in the Subcontinent accustomed him to days such as this ghastly 90-degree one that now assaults London.

Watson is famously short-tempered; but he has the cooler head in a hotter clime. Meanwhile I grit my teeth to hold back the words I want to snap at my incomparable friend – _will_ he hurry to join me on the platform instead of dawdling like a reluctant schoolboy, how _many_ times must I repeat the information about the bl…benighted case before it stays in his head, _must_ he do that infernal whistling of a ghastly Arthur Sullivan tune when he _knows_ the man's music makes me ill?

The unshaded train platform is a griddle. I long for the enclosed car, the breeze of movement, the strangled body in the Kent wine cellar, the cool dark wine cellar… When I realised that I was looking forward to that more than to the puzzle, I let out a little laugh.

"Goddammit, Holmes, _must_ you make that _annoying_ laugh!"

That explosion startles me into turning to Watson. His stricken look is a balm on my fevered brow. He too feels it.

I rest a hand on his shoulder before he can apologise. "The heat makes savages of us all, my boy."


End file.
